


You Would Not Believe Your Eyes

by Tiptapricot



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman and the Signal (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Batfamily, Bruce Wayne is a Good Dad, Duke Thomas-centric, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, New Year’s, Panic Attacks, batfam, coming into powers, good batsib time, supportive batfam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:33:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21969946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiptapricot/pseuds/Tiptapricot
Summary: No metas are allowed in Gotham, so what does that mean for Duke?
Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Duke Thomas, Dick Grayson & Tim Drake, Duke Thomas & Damian Wayne, Duke Thomas & Dick Grayson
Comments: 52
Kudos: 500





	You Would Not Believe Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning that I’m playing fast and loose with both canon and Duke’s powers. Thanks to Nikki for requesting this! Love you ;p

“Let me under, I’m freezing!”

“Stop it, you’re letting in cold air!”

“Oh really?”

Duke watches as Steph yanks the blanket from Jason’s shoulders and runs cackling for the other side of the field. Jason gets up and stumbles after her, yelling a string of curses as he tries to catch up. Steph makes it about halfway to the tree line before she’s tackled to the ground and the two of them start throwing punches. Cass rushes past a second later, a look in her eye that Duke is sure would make even Darkseid wet his pants.

It’s his first New Year’s at the Manor and one of the only times he’s seen the whole family together in one place. Bruce is setting up fireworks and sparklers, Dick and Tim are helping Alfred ferry food from the kitchen to a buffet table near the edge of the backyard, and the rest of the family is set up on blankets, talking loudly and drinking steaming cups of tea and coffee. It’s cozy, a welcome break from the usual chaos of Gotham.

Jason trudges up and plops back down next to Duke, muttering under his breath as he pulls the blanket tight around his shoulders. The peace only lasts a moment before Steph walks by and kicks him teasingly in the shoulder and the two of them are tearing off through the grass again.

Duke chuckles and stretches, taking a deep breath and lying back on the picnic blanket. Unlike in Gotham, you can see the stars from the manor. The sound of traffic is distant and the hum of conversation is relaxing. It almost seems unreal. So much of Duke’s life over the past few years has been a nightmare. Riddler, Joker, it all feels so alien compared to now.

He’s never had siblings before, that’s been one of the biggest changes since the adoption. There were his parents, but that doesn’t really compare. He’s still getting used to the little things, like how yelling doesn’t necessarily mean someone is angry (though it can), and how there’s always someone to watch your back. He wants to get to know his siblings better. He’s been around Dick, Tim, Jason, and Damian a lot, and he likes to think he knows them pretty well, but the others are a bit of a mystery. 

Cass seems nice. She’s quiet most of the time, but Duke has seen her cut loose on more than one occasion. Cassandra Wayne  _ knows _ how to have a good time. 

Babs is what he’d expect from an older sister, strict but kind, dorky, the voice of reason when things get too hectic. Duke thinks it’d be nice to help her out with monitoring patrol sometime. It would give them a chance to sit down and talk. 

Steph is just a big ball of energy. She’s headstrong and loud but Duke knows that isn’t the whole story. Sure, she might have added purple glitter to Dick’s shampoo last month, but Duke has stumbled upon quiet moments in the kitchen more than once, heard how soft her voice sounds when she’s helping patch the others up from a night out.

Duke wants to get to know them better, they are family after all.

A shadow blocks his view, making Duke blink. He sits up and rubs his eyes, squinting in the dark.

“Damian?”

“Is this spot taken?”

“Uh…” Duke doesn’t see Jason anywhere, maybe he’s been put on time out. “Nah go ahead.”

Damian sits down with a huff, steam pluming in a soft cloud from his lips.

“Any New Year’s resolutions?” Duke asks.

Damian shrugs. “I don’t see the point.”

“Right, and I’m guessing the others have already given you a lecture in it?”

“Not really.”

“Then why not?”

“Thomas,” Damian gives him a look that’s supposed to be intimidating but instead comes off as more of a pout, “why would I waste my time on meaningless promises?”

“I mean, there’s no harm in thinking about how you want to improve, right?”

“Tt.” Damian crosses his arms over his knees, focusing his attention into the clearing. Bruce is setting up the last of the fireworks.

“It doesn’t have to be a big thing, Dami. You can just say something like, uh, something like...”

He loses his train of thought, his brow furrowing. It starts off small, little sparks drifting up from the grass, so faint Duke thinks he’s imagining it. He shakes his head, and tries to focus back on the moment.

“You can say something like, next year I’ll keep my room cleaner, or—”

A streak of fire erupts in the middle of the clearing, just to Bruce’s left, little dots of light raining down on him. Duke flinches, hand coming up to shield his eyes, but no else seems to react, not Damian, not even Bruce.

Did one of the sparklers go off by accident? Something else moves behind the light and Duke squints to make it out. It almost looks like… a person. Who—

“Thomas?”

Duke jumps, attention snapping back to Damian.

“I, uh,” he glances back at Bruce. The sparkler is still going off, but the figure is gone now. He swallows thickly. “What’s up Dami?”

“You seem distracted. Is something wrong?”

Duke tries to smile, ignoring the way the edge of Damian’s face is starting to blur and glow, like badly layered frames of a movie. He shakes his head. “No, it’s nothing. I’m just… excited.”

Damian nods slowly, obviously still skeptical. Duke really wants to change topics, to ignore whatever weird thing is happening right now, because if one thing’s for sure, this is  _ not _ normal.

“So, about those resolutions—”

There’s an echoing, shrill, pop that rings in his ears and a second later streams of bright smoke erupt into the air, more sparklers bursting to life in towering pillars of fire.

Duke jumps, letting out a shriek of surprise as he watches the entire clearing fill up with light. He can’t even  _ see _ Bruce anymore, lost somewhere among the haze of fireworks.

“Holy  _ shit _ .” He breathes.

This isn’t some kind of minor malfunction anymore, something has gone horribly wrong. Duke feels frozen, his eyes bulging wide as he watches the night burst open with streams of light. Bruce is somewhere in there. He’s hurt, maybe  _ dying _ . Why is nobody doing anything, why is no one else—

“Thomas? Thomas!”

Hands shake him out of his stupor, and he blinks rapidly, heart hammering in his throat.

Damian looks at him through the darkness, an uncharacteristic expression of worry etched into the lines of his face.

“Dami, what are you doing? Why is no one helping?”

“Helping with what?” 

“Helping—”

He looks back and freezes. 

Bruce is fine.

There are no fireworks or sparklers, no smoke, no fire. Bruce is kneeling in the grass, still unwrapping tubes of colored packaging.

“He’s—I—he was… I’m gonna see if Alfred needs more help.” Duke excuses himself with a curt smile, mind racing. 

The walk to the kitchen feels like it takes forever.

***

“I mean, it’s not like I don’t get that you like it, I just don’t know why you like is so  _ much. _ ” Dick says, lifting a few serving bowls down from the cupboard and setting them on the counter.

“Just because you don’t appreciate the simple beauty of Minecraft doesn’t mean I love you any less, Dick, I hope you know that.” Tim replies, pulling the last tray of dinner rolls from the oven.

“I’m so relieved.” 

“Is this what you guys have been arguing about this whole time?” Duke asks.

“No, I believe it started out as a debate over fat free milk.” Alfred says coolly, pressing tin foil over two bowls of soup.

“I still can’t believe you actually drink that shit!” Dick calls over to Tim, laughter in his voice.

“Language Dickie boy!” Tim yells back, pushing the back door open with his hip.

Dick chuckles lightly, turning back to finish up the last few salads.

“You sure I can’t do anything to help?” Duke asks.

“I think we’ve got it covered here bud, but if you wanna grab some more blankets from the living room I wouldn’t say no.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Duke leaves the warmth of the kitchen, letting out a long sigh as he makes his way down the hall. 

What an evening.

Sparklers. Tricks of the light.

It’s not the first time something like this has happened, and that’s what really worries him. There have been a few late nights alone in his room, where he’s seen things he shouldn’t be seeing. Books falling before they fall, light trails clinging to his heels when he gets up, things he just attributed to lack of sleep and too much caffeine. But tonight has been different. It’s like he can  _ feel _ it now, a warm buzzing building up behind his eyes, a weightlessness in the pit of his stomach.

_ What is he becoming? _

The living room is dark, everything solid and still. Duke scoops up an armful of blankets from the couch, pausing for a moment to take a breath.

Whatever’s happening, he’s going to be alright. It’s probably just the lingering effects of a hallucinogen, Scarecrow maybe, or Mad Hatter. He’ll check in with Bruce later and they’ll run some tests and get it out of his system. And then he’ll be fine. The visions will go away and he can go back to being normal again. 

Duke smiles at the thought. Normal. It’s not a word he gets to use much in his life, but the idea that he’s gotten to a point where he can is… comforting.

He adjusts the pile of blankets and makes to turn back towards the kitchen, startling when he nearly bumps headfirst into Dick.

“ _ Jesus _ . You almost gave me a heart attack!” He says, half laughing. “Warn a guy next time yeah?”

Dick doesn’t respond, staring off somewhere over his shoulder. He doesn’t make a sound, his eyes blank, something off in his expression Duke can’t quite place.

“Dude, are you alri—”

He cuts himself off as Dick walks forward, and  _ through _ him. Duke freezes for a moment, breath picking up, before he turns slowly and watches the apparition move silently across the room. Its edges are dull and shifting, like a bad copy of the original. It gets dimmer as it crosses to the window, before it melts away completely. 

Duke stares after it, every part of his brain telling him to run, because you don’t just  _ see _ things like that. You don’t just see ghosts of your family, you don’t just see things happen before they happen.  _ Hallucinogen _ , he reminds himself, even though he’s never seen a drug that can do this.

Duke takes a deep breath and stumbles towards the hall, stopping in his tracks when he sees more of them.

They’re even vaguer than the one before, faint glowing outlines of Bruce and Alfred and Cass, walking up from the basement, tending to the fire, reading a newspaper. Duke weaves between them in a panic, clutching the blankets in his arms in a death grip and trying to ignore the quiet faces.

He stumbles into the hall and towards the kitchen, breathing heavily. If he can just get back to the others, then it’ll all be a nightmare, it’ll all be fake and he can go back to normal. That’s all he wants.  _ Normal. _

Two figures burst through the kitchen door and Duke skids to a halt, watching as a ghostly Steph and Jason run swift and smooth towards the main house. He can see their lips move in silent taunts, see how close they look to the real things, the coats and mittens and… the blanket held tight in one of Jason’s hands. Duke whips around as they pass, realizing in one heartstopping moment that the ghosts are dressed the same as the real Steph and Jason.

Something cold and tight twists in Duke’s chest. 

He pushes open the kitchen door tentatively, glancing back down the hallway. It’s empty now, but he can’t get the image out of his head.

“Oh hey! What took you so long bud? Get lost?” Dick claps a hand on Duke’s shoulder. He flinches, but Dick doesn’t seem to notice. “We took out the last of the food, I was just about to come grab you. Want some help with those?”

“What? Oh, yeah.”

Dick takes most of the pile, hooking his chin over the top.

“Come on, it’s almost midnight, you don’t want to miss the fireworks.”

Yeah, actually he does.

“I’ll be out in a minute, just want to check on something.”

Dick raises an eyebrow in confusion but turns to leave anyway, pushing the back door open with his elbow.

“Wait… Dick?”

Dick pauses, looking back. “What’s up?”

“Did Jay and Steph come through here earlier?” Duke asks, fingers tightening around the cloth of the blankets.

“Uh, yeah, a few minutes before you came in. They nearly knocked Alfred over, went straight through. Why?”

“No reason.”

Dick nods slowly, “Right.” And with that he slips outside. Duke watches him through the window before he turns back to the kitchen.

He has to test something, something that scares him more than fighting villains ever has. He focuses on the room, letting the buzz from before fill his head. Then he waits, part of him hoping nothing happens, part of him hoping he really is just imagining it all. 

But, just like clockwork the phantasms appear, going through the same motions Duke had watched before. He sees Dick working on food, sees him laugh, only there’s no sound this time, just the silent smile and vague crinkle of the eyes. Sometimes the ghosts will turn and pieces of their bodies will melt into blackness, cutting off abruptly. Duke takes a step back when something passes over Tim’s face and the apparition ceases to have one, just an empty hole surrounded by glowing wisps of hair. 

That’s too much for him. He crosses the kitchen in a hurry, palms sweating, slipping on the door knob. The manor grounds are empty and quiet and Duke walks as fast as he can for the backyard. Faint outlines are drifting through the air, just the shadows of people, just their imprints. He ignores them as he comes around the side of the garage, just in time to watch the manor grounds explode with color.

He’s blinded, stumbling back as cracks and bangs reverberate through the air. He screams and covers his eyes, dropping the rest of the blankets in the process. The light is too bright, brighter than he’s ever seen, like looking straight into the sun. It’s brighter than light should be. His vision is a patchwork of blotches and dots and his head feels like it’s on fire. There’s a whoop of excitement and the shrieking of another firework before Duke manages to open his eyes again.

He nearly chokes on his own breath.

There are hundreds of them, swarming over the lawn and up the steps, clear and vivid and blindingly bright. The ghosts melt into each other, overlapping, rippling out towards the house. All the possibilities of the next few minutes, family members running, sitting, some smiling, others looking terrified.

Duke screams again and turns back towards the house, tripping over his own feet as concerned voices drift after him.

_ He can’t breathe. _

Up the steps, through the door, over the landing, down the hall. The door to his room slams shut behind him and Duke fumbles as he tries to lock it, hands shaking feverishly.

This isn’t right, none of this is right.

“Duke?” He hears Jason call from downstairs. “You good, man? Where th’ hell’d you go?”

There’s the heavy sound of boots thumping up the stairs and Duke panics, trying to run for his bed. He trips and knocks something off a shelf, scrambling blindly in the dark. He hasn’t turned the light on and he doesn’t  _ want _ to. This  _ thing _ is triggered by light, so the less of it, the better.

There’s a knock at the door. “I know you’re in there kid. What’s goin’ on? Looked like you saw a fuckin’ ghost back there.”

Duke takes a deep breath, trying to blink away the returning buzz.

“It was nothing, Jay! I’m fine, go back outside!” He yells. It’s not convincing, of course it’s not, but it was worth a shot.

“Okay, but if ya don’t tell me what happened imma have to have B come talk to you, and that’s gonna be way less fun.”

Duke doesn’t respond, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to get rid of the images flashing behind his eyelids.

Jason’s sigh sounds muffled through the wood. “Suit yourself.”

The footsteps retreat and Duke is left alone with his own heavy breathing. Tears slip over the skin of his wrists, hot and wet, and he pushes harder against his eyes.

He knows what this is. He doesn’t want to, god of  _ course _ he doesn’t want to, but he  _ does _ .

He has powers.

None like he’s heard of before, he’s not even fully sure what they are or how they work, and that alone is scary enough, but it’s not what’s important. Every meta struggles with their powers, that’s obvious enough. Damian has told Duke countless stories about Jon accidentally blasting things, or floating when he shouldn’t. 

_ That’s not what really scares him. _

It’s the reality that this, that  _ he _ , won’t work in this family anymore. It’s a clear rule,  _ no metas in Gotham _ , so what is he supposed to do?

Duke doesn’t want to leave, he doesn’t want to give up a life again. He just got this family and now the universe is just going to rip it away? No.  _ No.  _ That can’t happen.  _ God _ please don’t let that happen.

“Duke?” There’s a heavy pounding on the door and Duke scoots further behind his bed. “Son, I need you to let me in, I have to make sure you’re alright.”

It’s Bruce.  _ Of course it’s Bruce. _ What can he do? What can he do what can he do whatcanhedowhatcanhe _ do _ ?

_ He can hide it. _

“Duke?” Bruce’s tone is firm but soft, and it almost makes Duke regret running for the window.

He throws open the latch and takes a gulp of fresh air. There’s a ledge jutting out from the windowsill that runs along the side of the house. It looks sturdy enough, at least he hopes it is.

“Duke, I don’t want to scare you but I will have Alfred open the door if you don’t let me in.”

No choice.

Duke steps through the window, edging carefully along the ledge. He takes a short breath when he’s fully outside and lets go of the frame, leaning against the manor's tiling as he slides away from his room. The marble is cold and he really should’ve put his coat back on, but he doesn’t have much time. Bruce’s knocking has gotten more insistent and he has to make it to the front of the house before they find him.

He picks up the pace.

When he gets to the corner of the house Duke rests his head against the wall, letting out a long breath and readying himself before he swings his leg around and feels for the ledge again. The sole of his shoe slips off an he sways before trying again. There’s the sound of a door slamming and a shout of surprise and that’s all the motivation he needs. Duke pulls himself around and hugs against the wall, heart fluttering sporadically in his ribcage.

_ They’ll be looking for him soon. _

He takes one step and his shoe slips again, but this time he can’t get a good grip. His shins slam against the ledge, followed by his elbows, before he’s landing fast and heavy on the lawn. Duke chokes as he tries to get his breath back, sputtering and coughing before he pushes himself to his feet.

Move move  _ move _ .

The manor is still dark, the front windows gaping open like big black mouths. He can’t see anyone in the living room, now’s his chance.

Duke pushes open the front doors and runs for the back hall, blood drumming in his ears. He can hear people upstairs, calling out to each other, searching the rooms.

_ “Where could he have gone?” _

_ “What the hell is happening?” _

_ “Do you think he’s alright?” _

The clock swings open silently.

Down down down, the cave walls echo as Duke thunders down the stairs, not pausing to catch his breath before he’s running towards the chem lab.

He gets to the cabinets breathless, wrenching the glass doors open. He rifles through the bottles, skimming his finger along the labels. Where is it.  _ Where is it _ . 

There!

Duke pulls out a small glass tube filled with greenish brown liquid. It’s labeled  _ Fear Gas _ in thick black sharpie.

Duke closes the cabinet carefully and grabs a syringe from one of the drawers. He pops off the lid of the tube and draws out a few milliliters of solution before capping it again, hands shaking as he sets it back on the counter.

He can hide this way. Inject himself and when they find him, when they test him, they’ll just think he got dosed. It’ll explain everything, his jumpiness, the screaming, heck, he thought he was drugged too at first. They don’t have to know he has powers, he doesn’t have to get kicked out, he doesn’t have to lose a family again.

“Duke! There you are!”

He turns with a start, shoving the syringe behind his back. Bruce is making his way across the cave, face twisted in concern.

“What happened? Why did you jump out the window?  _ What is going on? _ ”

Duke stumbles backwards, two steps at a time. Not  _ now _ , it won’t  _ work _ now.

“Duke?”

He flinches back from the touch before Bruce even reaches out. Because he  _ sees _ it.  _ He sees it coming. _ Ghostly fingers reaching out, wispy and vague like morning mist, there to expose him for what he really is. A meta. _ A monster _ . 

His fingers tighten around the syringe and he backs further against the counter.

“I need to know what’s going on or I can’t help you. Just  _ talk _ to me.”

“I—I,“ he presses the needle to his wrist, thumb shaking over the plunger. He can still do it somehow, he can hide it. They don’t have to know.  _ He can hide it. _

“I don’t know what you’re going through, but I can help you, Duke, it’ll be alright.” Bruce’s voice is so low, so soft, so loving. It makes Duke feel sick, because he knows he’s going to lose that if he doesn’t act  _ now _ .

“But—” His hands are shaking, shaking too much to hold the syringe. But he has to do it, right?  _ Right? _ “But you’ll be mad.”

Bruce smiles sadly. “No, no no no, I won’t be mad, I  _ promise _ I won’t be mad. It’s alright.” He wouldn’t say that if he knew, he wouldn’t care so much if he knew, he wouldn’t—“ _ It’s alright. _ ”

The syringe clatters on the cave floor and Duke is in Bruce’s arms a second later, pulling him as close as he can.

“Msorrymsososorryididn’tmeanit!” 

Bruce’s arms wrap around his back, warm and steady and solid, holding him so carefully, like he means everything in the world.

“I know, I know, don’t worry. I’m still going to need you to tell me what’s wrong, okay? It doesn’t have to be right now, but I want to make sure you’re alright.”

“Okay.” He presses his face into Bruce’s stomach. His knees feel weak and Bruce must notice because he’s suddenly being hefted up into his arms.

“Let’s go have Alfred make you some tea. When you’re feeling better we can talk. Does that sound good?”

Duke nods, taking a shuddering breath.

“Alright.”

Bruce turns to carry him out of the cave, and just before they go up the stairs, Duke cracks his eyes open.

There’s a boy standing in the middle of the cave, hugging tight to his father, both glowing warmly against the stone.

What a beautiful sight, Duke thinks to himself, a family made out of gold.


End file.
